


Whats In A Name?

by Toryb



Series: Tumblr Meet Cute [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Jughead Jones is a walking shitpost with a few secrets, Long-Distance Relationship, Online Dating, Online Relationship, Tumblr AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: Betty Cooper’s blog in minimalist. That’s the nicest word she can think of for barren. It’s not to say she doesn’t keep it well groomed (in fact maybe it’s a little too taken care of), it’s just…well it’s the poetry blog of a senior in high school hoping to one day major in journalism.At least as far as Betty can remember, she didn’t post a nude picture and that’s what really blows up overnight in the tumblr community. She scrolls until she hits the bottom. The first one.donniedarkno liked your post.donniedarkno followed you.donniedarkno reblogged your post and added….She clicks on the post and sees, to her bewilderment, six yellow clapping emojis.J (that’s the only thing he’s put in the bio to call him), or @donniedarkno, is, as far as Betty can tell, not her usual demographic. For lack of a better word: he shitposts.





	Whats In A Name?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petersbenjamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersbenjamin/gifts).



> Soooo...@bettycoopr on tumblr and I kind of had a running idea about Tumblr AU Bughead and then I ended up writing over 8k on it so like here's this! I hope you guys enjoy this really fluffy oneshot <3
> 
> Shout out again to Chloe for reading over this and being amazing. Also @stark aka Mila for being our emotional cheerleader!

Betty Cooper’s blog in minimalist. That’s the nicest word she can think of for barren. It’s not to say she doesn’t keep it well groomed (in fact maybe it’s a little too taken care of), it’s just...well it’s the poetry blog of a senior in high school hoping to one day major in journalism. She likes poems. She likes writing them, reading them, being part of someone’s darkness and depth. Sometimes, on dark nights when the weight of her undiagnosed mental illness weights a little too heavily, she ventures into an aesthetic that leaves her measly hundred or so followers confused. Whatever darkness still lingers until the following day is quickly deleted, brushed under the carpet with the rest of her ever-increasing secrets. She’s going to need a new rug soon.

Her blog, @minicooper, has a small albeit strangely dedicated following. She doesn’t show her face, her age, anything remotely identifying except her name. Sometimes her poems sing of small town america blues, but when there’s hundreds of shattering places like that it’s not easy to pinpoint her exact location on the map. Alice’s drilled in paranoia hasn’t left her just yet.

It’s one of the bad nights. The nights when the darkness curls up in the shadows, creeping closer and closer until it devours her thoughts and swallows her whole. During bad nights there’s not much to do: either let it consume her, or fight back in the only way she knows how. So Betty picks up her computer and writes. It’s nothing much; just a little poem she calls  _ Crescent _ , all about the marks she digs into her palms in a desperate (and unhealthy) attempt to cope with the life crumpling under her feet. Against her better judgement, or maybe as a cry into the void for help, she posts it. The demons crawl up her throat under their overwhelming and the only release now is a fitful slumber

Blissfully, she dreams of nothingness.

Betty doesn’t even really remember her breakdown from the night before. The only thing left from it are a fresh set of wounds she quickly plasters over with the princess bandaids her mother got her. (It’s like she’s 8 and not 18.) Her phone has been blowing up for the past hour but she just assumes it’s Kevin or Veronica with the latest hot gossip about Cheryl’s new beau. It buzzes again. One more time and she might need a new circle of best friends. She flips it over to see what on earth could be causing such a ruckus but nearly drops it when she sees all the notes.

dk925 followed you.

wake-me-up666 followed you.

mortymorty reblogged your post.

lesbiandannystark reblogged your post.

lesbiandannystark followed you.

lesbiandannystark liked your post.

ilovebooks420 liked your post.

The list goes on and on and on, so long she can hardly keep up with all the names and profile pictures whizzing past her. She checks her analytics. 200 new followers.  _ 200 new followers. _ Overnight. And for no reason. At least as far as Betty can remember, she didn’t post a nude picture and that’s what really blows up overnight in the tumblr community. She scrolls until she hits the bottom. The first one.

donniedarkno liked your post.

donniedarkno followed you.

donniedarkno reblogged your post and added….She clicks on the post and sees, to her bewilderment, six yellow clapping emojis. It’s not the round of applause or in depth analysis she had expected to see spark a mass following. Her silly little poem is at (holy shit!) 1,098 notes. She clicks on the culprits profile to see where it leads.

J (that’s the only thing he’s put in the bio to call him), or @donniedarkno, is, as far as Betty can tell, not her usual demographic. For lack of a better word: he shitposts. Here and there she spots social justice rants, add ons to posts that either elaborate on or discredit what the original author is trying to get across. As someone who wants to major in journalism, she’s impressed with all his sources and his dedication to being right.

At the top of his blog, right after the reblog of her poem, is an ask that makes her giggle.

“Poetry reblogs? I didn’t know you could read.”

“I can’t.”

She clicks on the “about me” hyperlink in his bio and is horribly unsurprised when it leads her straight into a rick rolling. That’s just the kind of guy this J is apparently. But today is the most she’s laughed in weeks. Genuinely laughed, not just the fake giggles she puts on for her friends so they don’t know she’s spiraling into an uncontrollable depression that causes her disassociate at the drop of a hat. It’s probably that sense of glee that makes her send this man a message. (Or boy. His age isn’t listed anywhere either.)

**minicooper:** Just wanted to stop in and say thank you for reblogging my poetry. I don’t know how you did it but it blew up. People love it. I’ve never gotten so much attention for something like this so, like I said before, thank you.

Betty presses send before she can second guess her embarrassing ramblings. She’s not expecting him to reply, literally ever, but it feels good to have thanked someone for the recognition. Time, effort, raw emotion: she pours her heart and soul into her poetry. She’ll enjoy a little recognition before they all realize her subpar nature and unfollow en masse.

It turns out Veronica and Kevin  _ have  _ actually been blowing up her phone. They all agree to meet at Pop’s, the only good thing in her stupid little town, for lunch. The kind old man has their usuals served before they can give him a proper hello. One chocolate, one vanilla, and one mint milkshake. Apparently this is about Cheryl Blossom, resident bitch queen and now currently dating someone from the Southside. It’s a total shock, or at least it would be if Betty actually cared about anyone’s dating life in the face of her completely non existent one.

“Cheryl’s going to petition for the school to allow them to be joint homecoming queens, no king needed. That’s the kind of rich bitch lesbianism we’ve needed around her forever,” Kevin points out, stealing Betty’s cherry off of her sunday. The blonde doesn’t protest. Even though it’s a little frustrating, it’s not unexpected. The three of them have been besties since birth and all of Kevin’s quirks come with his gay prince charming aesthetic. “I needed it yesterday and color me thrilled about the entire thing.”

Veronica laughs, “I’m just hoping this means she’ll let up during River Vixen practices. Toni’s on the squad too now.”

Oh the River Vixens. The first on a very long list of things Betty couldn’t have in high school for one reason or another. Her mother, Polly, school policy, finding out that Kevin was gay and while he loved her unconditionally, the kiss they shared in Cheryl’s closet just reaffirmed the fact that he was, in fact, absolutely, decidedly not into girls. As with all heart crushing realities, time had healed her wounds. Mostly.

Her friends rant and rave and craft wild theories all about how Principal Weatherbee would react to such a scandal at the school. Betty tries her best to stay awake enough to answer with the occasional “uh huh” and “oh shit” just so they know she cares. By the time their food comes, she’s forgotten all about Mr. Donniedarkno. Naturally, that’s when she feels the buzz.

It’s a surprise when she notices the username. Holy cheese on rice he actually answered her. While her friends aren’t looking, Betty pulls up the tumblr app and sneaks a glance like some teenage boy receiving a nude pic in second period.

**donniedarkno:** Not a problem. It’s good writing. I don’t come across many “tumblr poets” that I actually like. Reminded me a bit of Sylvia Plath. I liked. I read the rest of your stuff too. Hope that’s okay.

He’s definitely not a boy. No boy, at least in her experience, can name a famous poet (and one of her favorites) off the top of his head and actually make a good comparison to her work. Her heart decides it’s time for some cardio. Fingers shake as she tries to write something that’s at least somewhat coherent.

**minicooper:** Absolutely okay. I hope it wasn’t disappointing! I’m curious though, I hope you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up finding it?

**donniedarkno:** It was tagged pretty well and sometimes for the fuck of it I like scrolling through the “poets of tumblr” tag. Yours was the best I’ve seen in awhile so I thought you deserve some recognition. Poetry isn’t easy. God knows I can’t do that shit.

And then Betty does something so thoroughly unlike her that Veronica and Kevin are so shocked by, their heads snap her way. She giggles.

“I’m sorry did Betty Cooper just  _ giggle _ ? Rewind and explain,” Veronica prompts. Kevin nods in agreement, leaning across the table to hear her better.

She groans and hides her face in her hands, shoving her phone in her pocket so they can’t completely invade her privacy. “Just...talking to someone. And before either of you start, it’s not what you think. I started talking to him today and I don’t even know his name.”

“Okay then how did you meet Mr. No Name mystery boy and he ended up with your personal phone number? Necking in the woods?” Kevin waggles his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes.

“No.” It’s then she remembers they have no idea she’s on tumblr, a website so stigmatized in it’s absurdity, she’s not even sure why she’s on it half the time. But it’s her safe place. Solitude she desperately needs from the ever prowling judgemental eyes of her mother. “Just met him online. That’s all I’m going to say guys. Please don’t ask anymore.”

“We won’t, B. Just promise us you’ll be careful? You never know what kind of crazies are lurking online.”

Betty appreciates their concern. It’s genuine (unlike a certain someone’s who’s just trying to keep up “perfect” family appearances). She promises to be careful and let’s her friends get back to her gossip. She bites her lip, smiles, and answers J’s message.

**minicooper:** Everyone can be good at poetry if you just put your mind to it. Writing can be tricky.

**donniedarkno:** tell me about it.

That spikes her curiosity.

**minicooper:** Do you write?

**donniedarkno:** Eh. I dabble here and there. Nothing serious. Mostly creative nonfiction or short stories.

**minicooper:** Omg I love that kind of stuff. True crime thrillers. Writers like Capote. But my favorite is probably this underground guy: FP Jones the Third. I know his name sounds weird, but his writing is phenomenal. Definitely not as well loved as it should be. I’ve been recommending his short story collection Backwoods Neons to all my friends. It’s about the crumbling of small town America. 

**donniedarkno:** I...I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure. I’ll definitely have to pick that up. I grew up in a small town. Ohio.

**minicooper:** Really? Me too. New York though. Hoping to get out for college really soon through. I’ve been putting in applications since the start of this year but the acceptance letters don’t come out for awhile. Applications don’t even close until January.

**donniedarkno:** Ha! Try Ohio. Go Buckeyes or something.

**minicooper:** Not a football person?

**donniedarkno:** What could possibly have given it away?

“Earth to Elizabeth!” Veronica tosses a fry right into Betty’s cleavage, earning a round of applause from Kevin. “Stop talking to tall, dark, and mysterious. You and I have a homecoming to plan, and that includes how the three of us are going to color coordinate. Cheryl and her new bae aren’t going to steal the show that easily.”

Betty rolls her eyes and reluctantly puts her phone away. “Okay, okay. Now tell me what you had in mind?”

 

///////////////

 

Jughead Jones isn’t sure how the fuck he ended up talking to a girl from tumblr for three weeks. He doesn’t even talk to his in real life roommate every day let alone some strange girl who he hasn’t known his entire life. But Betty Cooper, as he’s learned her real name, and thus the origin of her clever URL, to be, is kind of maybe a little bit amazing and he’s kind of maybe a little bit crushing on her. (And he’s only 20 and she’s 18 so he doesn’t have to worry about completely fucking up his moral compass on accident).

About a week ago they started playing this game and it kind of maybe a little bit makes him laugh how dedicated she is to figuring out what the “J” stands for. He’s never shared that kind of information online, mostly so he can separate his status as professional author and status as professional shitposter. His editor definitely doesn’t need the added stress of having to police how many anons he calls “dumbass” on a daily basis (seventeen). Besides, he writes creative nonfiction. What would the literary community think of him if they found out his favorite time of the year is the meme roundup in December?

How there are around 8,000 people following him is still mind boggling. He started the blog around his sophomore year of high school mostly as a way to harass his best friend Archie Andrews about posting more One Direction covers on his youtube cover channel. Archie still doesn’t know it was him behind all of those messages and it’s probably the best for their friendship and current roommate arrangement that it stays that way.

Betty, in probably the cutest way possible, is on the second of her allotted three guesses. He’s thinking about changing his blog title to “Just Call me Rumpelstiltskin, Baby”, but the “baby” might be too much even though he thinks kind of maybe a little bit that Betty might be open to being called that by him. But he’s also never flirted with a girl before so he’s completely flying blind and he’d rather eat his own foot off than ask Archie for advice about this.

**minicooper:** Is your name Justin?

Jughead briefly recalls a time in junior year when he’d been stuffed into a locker by someone on the water polo team named Justin and blanches.

**donniedarkno:** Definitely not. One left, mini cooper.

**minicooper:** 1) I told you to just call me Betty you dork. 2) you arent making this easy! Come on and give me a hint? Pretty please?

She sends him a very cute picture of a kitten begging and it’s enough to melt his ice cold heart even just a bit. He decides it’s time to take some pity on her. It’s not like she’ll ever guess the name of her favorite author.

**donniedarkno:** It’s really uncommon. Like I can say with full confidence that there might be one person in the entire world that shares my name, and even those are slim odds.

**minicooper:** What about Jesus? Pronounced like the God.

**donniedarkno:** Are you even trying anymore?

Fuck she makes him laugh. It’s almost embarrassing how often he’s been caught making dopey smiles at his phone in the last week and a half. Archie is absolutely getting suspicious, not that Jughead can blame him. He’s never been the smartest guy around but he’s definitely not gullible enough to believe that his roommates next manifesto about the evils of corporate America destroying the midwestern lifestyle that’s making him smile like a dork.

“What’s her name?” Archie asks, cracking open a beer he’d definitely purchased with his unconvincing fake ID.

Jughead at least has the good sense to try and play dumb. “Who her? There’s not a her Archie. Never has been and never will be. Can you imagine someone actually wanting to be Mrs. Forsythe Pendleton Jones. Anecdotally, those relationships have worked out really well in the past.”

(It’s funny because his parents had a cripplingly nasty divorce when he was seven, leaving his so traumatized he fears he might actually be incapable of love for another human being.)

Their white sheepdog jumps on the couch, where he’s definitely not allowed to be, and puts his head in Jughead’s lap. He’s widdled them down and they’ve given up trying to tame him or his obnoxious fur. Their dog’s name is either Air Bud or Hot Dog the Fifth depending on who you ask and which day of the week it is.

“Wow, bad lie, even for you buddy. Come on. We’re best friends, right?”

“More like blood brothers but continue.”

“Fine,” Archie rolls his eyes, “We’re blood brothers. And last I checked brothers don’t hide from each other girls they’re talking to.”

“You have a horribly misinformed concept of sibling relationships but okay yes there is maybe a girl I’ve been casually chatting with,” he tries desperately to downplay the situation but judging from the way Archie chokes on his beer, he’s failed miserably at it. “Thanks for the vote of confidence there buddy.”

Archie shakes his head, clearing the alcohol from his airways before actually speaking again. “No, Jug, it’s not that I’m surprised. I mean, I am surprised. Really surprised. Growing up you always said you didn’t really care about girls or even guys, remember no judgements. So I’m...surprised. Happy for you! But surprised. Tell me her name. What’s she like? Where’s she from?”

“Would you like her birth year and social security number too, Andrews?” But he’s a little excited that Archie seems this excited for him, because Jughead’s even a little excited for himself. Expecting and preparing for the worst, but excited.

It’s only fair that his red headed lug of a best friend sits there and listens as Jughead waxes poetry about Betty after the countless girlfriend’s he’s helped not edit but also listen to songs about. He doesn’t even know what she looks like and he’s about one hundred percent certain that she’s the most beautiful girl in the entire world without contest. It’s her strength that really impresses him. She’s not exactly hiding how hard things are for her mentally: her poems are cries for help and he only hopes he can aid in some release of those horrible feelings. They haven’t really scratched below the surface on their respective shitty problems, but it’s nice knowing that they understand each other.

“Wow. She seems like your kind of girl. I don’t have a lot of reference for that since you’ve gone on one date the entire time I’ve known you, which is a long time since there’s pictures of us sharing the same bathtub. And she likes your books? She must be so stoked to be talking to you.”

Archie is the kind of person who’s mild youtube fame is something to be proud of. He doesn’t exactly flaunt it, but the fact that dating someone with even a cult following could be distressing to someone is just unfathomable for him. He likes attention. Jughead doesn’t. That’s why he had refused an author’s picture on the back of his books. Anonymity suited him better.

Which was, in truth, the most obvious and distressing reason as to why he had yet to open up to Betty about his identity. When they were like this, a random meme king with a stupid pun name and a girl who thought he was funny, there was no pressure on who he should be. She had no preconceived ideals to fall back on. He simply was who he was. And she, somehow, liked that person.

“She doesn’t know. And she won’t know. Not for a while at least.” If he even managed to suppress his own knee jerk reaction to run at the smallest sign of intimacy long enough to create a condition where ‘a while’ was plausible. “That’s a non-negotiable point. If you try to convince me to tell her I will immediately stop talking about it and refuse to forever.”

“Okay okay. Anyone ever tell you that you’re barely tolerable?”

“Many a weak minded people, Archibald. And you have never and will never be one of them.”

 

//////////

 

They’re a thing now. At least maybe they are. Betty is pretty sure they’re a thing. There isn’t a definition to what that thing is but it’s definitely there and they can both feel it. It’s been two months of the back and forth, the near daily communication where even a few hours without talking to him feels like a few hours too long. They’ve both opened up more, a lot more. One night she’d disassociated so hard she’d scared herself. J was there to talk her down from the terrifying high. He showed her pictures he’d taken of the crumbling small town once called his home. Betty convinced him to publish them. (Unsurprisingly, it was met with a lot of praise. She knew how talented he was, even when he couldn’t see it himself).

In passing, J has called her “babe” and before then Betty had no idea that a single word could make her feel so good and terrified all at once. It’s a complex feeling. But she likes it. Their feeds are sickening to a point even strangers were noticing. He tags her in cat videos to make her smile, sends her his favorite memes at odd hours of the night: all signs of his ever growing affection. She would never forget the time she had logged on and seen his post.

**anonymous asked:** You are and your girlfriend are so cute!

**donniedarkno answered:** yeah she is.

Betty doesn’t need labels to make her feel good: that was J’s job. They’re doing things a little backwards, sure, but not in a way that particularly bothers her. It makes Veronica confused and infuriated most nights though.

“You don’t even know him Betty! His name or what he looks like. He could be catfishing you and you’d never even know.”

“He’s not catfishing Veronica. I’m pretty sure there has to be a picture involved to be catfished.”

Besides, it doesn’t matter what J looks like. Her heart beats faster when they text, her days look brighter after they’ve talked, and for the first time in a very long time, she looks forward to waking up again each morning. It’s a good feeling, one she’s determined not to let fade into nothingness.

It’s November now. And November in New York means it’s freezing fucking cold and Betty can’t feel her hands anymore. Veronica and Kevin have been bitching about the weather all afternoon and, frankly, she’s getting sick of her. They’re huddled up together in Pop’s waiting for a particularly nasty snow storm to pass long enough to venture home in Kev’s old pick-up. They aren’t the only group seeking refuge however. Almost all of Riverdale High is crammed into one shop.

The waitresses are understandably overworked. Cheryl and Reggie are shouting at them every few minutes about something that’s gone wrong on someone’s order so Betty doesn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes for her onion rings because she’ll know they haven’t been spit in. She makes a mental reminder to tip the waitress a little extra.

Her phone dings and she’s instantly cheered up. It’s J, because of course he knows her day is sour and he wants to bring a little happiness to it. His dog might be his favorite subject material, not that she minds. Air Bud’s (or maybe it was Hot Dog’s?) hair is covered in snow and he seems frustrated. She has more pictures of his dog than her own sister.

**donniedarkno:** Today has been ruff.

The stupid pun makes her laugh, pulling her fluffy pink scarf a little tighter so her friends don’t catch it.

**minicooper:** Aw, same over here, bud.

And then, before she can stop herself (which is a theme with how she addresses her relationship with Jughead), Betty snaps a cute selfie of herself, cheeks pink from the bitter cold and lips more chapped than she means them to be without her strawberry flavored gloss. But it’s cute picture and she’s proud of it. So she presses send and waits.

And waits.

Her heart starts to beat a little too fast again. This time it’s fear. She’s ruined it all. What if he thinks she’s ugly?

**donniedarkno:** Sorry I just um...I forgot how to breath there for a second. You’re gorgeous Betty. I mean, I knew you would be, but wow. I like your earrings.

**donniedarkno:** And your hair.

**donniedarkno:** In short, I like you.

Betty giggles like an idiot for almost a minute straight. Kevin seems happy for her but Veronica just rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have to understand it yet, but she hopes her best friend will understand soon. 

**minicooper:** I like you too, J. A lot.

What’s more startling than her own self confidence is the message she gets next. It’s not much, just a peak of his eyes from underneath a massive brown blankets she thinks she recognizes from IKEA, but it’s enough. His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, as beautiful as the sea and so deep she wants to dive right in and get swept away. J is a Russian doll of complexities, but today she opened up another one and saw inside.

**minicooper:** You’ve got gorgeous eyes.

**donniedarkno:** Not as pretty as yours. Promise.

That night, when Betty gets home, she starts researching Ohio colleges and their journalism programs. Without her mother’s knowledge, she sends a few of them in. There’s always been a plan: go to Columbia or NYU, graduate summa cumm laude and come back to boring old Riverdale to work with her parents at the local newspaper. It’s not the education they care about for her, but the prestige.

It’s not a sure thing, but she doesn’t want it to be. It’s keeping her options open. And those options include J and his pretty blue eyes that make her stomach do somersaults and her heart beat too fast. Maybe she’ll end up like Icarus, flying too close to the sun and getting burned like Veronica always says. But she wants to try.

When it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning, she texts him to go to sleep because she has a test tomorrow, but doesn’t end up catching any zz’s herself until she gets three goodnight hearts back. It’s the best sleep she’s had in years.

 

///////////

 

Maybe it’s dorky. No. No it’s definitely dorky, but Jughead really can’t bring himself to give a singular fuck. He likes having Betty has his home screen  _ and _ his lock screen. She’s gorgeous and he doesn’t get enough of her so why not fend off the starvation with pictures of her cute face. Archie says he’s whipped which is yeah, absolutely, totally fucking true but it’s also not something he’s taking any shame in. Being whipped means having a girl like Betty  _ freaking _ Cooper like him so he really can’t complain.

And he actually has her. Officially. Well as official as they can make a long distance relationship she can’t tell her parents about in fear of being booted from her home. But still, it’s theirs in secret official status. And theirs is starting to mean a whole heck of a lot to him.

Its Monday, which in a very Garfieldian view point is his least favorite day of the week because nothing ever seems to go right then (and today would be no exception), and he’s just finished taking a nap after writing. The 1,000 words he’s written probably don’t warrant a nap, but dealing with his editor certainly has. When Jughead finally rubs the sleep from his eyes, he notices multiple messages from Betty on tumblr.

**minicooper:** J it’s so fucking awful. My mom found out that my sister’s pregnant and she’s furious.

**minicooper:** Polly’s an adult I don’t understand why she’s so angry. She’s even got a boyfriend! Who loves her! But Mom threatened to kick her out if she didn’t break up with Jason so she just...she left. She’s gone. Polly’s gone.

**minicooper:** I’m so scared. The darkness is coming back J. Please.

**minicooper:** Please.

**minicooper:** I’m scared.

Thank fucking God the messages are only a few minutes old and he can attempt to boyfriend up and help her through this. Written words, despite being an author with evidence to back up his talent with them, seem inadequate. Jughead thinks for as long as he can before sending her an eight digit string of numbers.

**donniedarkno:** That’s my number. Call it. Now.

It’s not meant to be commanding or rude but he’s terrified in this moment and there’s nothing more he can really think to do. When no reply comes, he starts to fear the worst. Because it’s a Monday and his life is a series of unfortunate events (and not the absurdist Lemony Snicket kind either).

Finally, an unknown New York number calls and he remembers how to breath.

“Betty? Betty are you okay? Talk to me?”

“J...oh god J I’m so scared…” He doesn't really have time to acknowledge or even process the little things about her voice. It’s soft and broken, full of fear and sadness and something else he can’t quite place but knows is eating her alive. Her voice, even when shattered by her emotions, is just as breathtaking as all other aspects of Betty Cooper he’s kind of maybe sort of fallen in love with secretly.

Jughead wishes there were more to do, but no one has ever written a book about being a long distance tumblr boyfriend (though he should really consider that. It sounds like it could be a lucrative business). All he can do is be there for her. “Betty you have to breath. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

They breath together for a long time. Long enough that he’s momentarily very thankful for all the yoga classes Archie dragged him to when he’d wanted to conquest the instructor. That had failed miserably, ending with the nice Russian woman wishing the two of them a happy life as a couple. Jughead did not stop laughing for weeks.

“Better?” he knows it is because her breathing isn’t as ragged or messy as before, but he wants to make sure.

Betty sniffles. “Yeah. Yeah better. You have a really nice voice J.”

“Yeah? So do you. Maybe we can start hearing it a lot more from now on.”

“Is it weird that I’ve been calling you my boyfriend for a few weeks and I’m just now getting to hear your voice?” Her laugh is beautiful. Or maybe there’s not a word in the English language that really captures the way it makes his heart sore. He’ll have to go snooping in a French or German dictionary later.

Jughead lays on the couch, phone pressed to his ear so he can hear her steady breathing. “Maybe. But I think a lot of things are weird. Who says what we’re doing is any more wrong or right than what everyone else is doing? It’s no different than meeting on tinder, except there wasn’t an expectation of me having to come up with a chessy and vulgar pick up line to get in your pants with.”

“I don’t think you’d need a cheesy or vulgar pick up line to do that.”

Now he’s the one who’s forgotten how to breathe.

 

///////////

 

Alice wasn’t happy when she found out Betty had gone behind her back and applied for schools in Ohio of all places. In fact, one might call the way she stomped around the house fuming like an angry dragon who had just let their princess escape down right furious.

“Ohio? What on earth is in Ohio, Elizabeth? Certainly not me or your father or Columbia!” Betty watched the way she stirred the pie mix and nearly crumpled in fear right then.

And what was in Ohio that she could tell her mom about? Certainly not J, the mysterious twenty year old boy she was having late night phone calls with and called her “boyfriend” online. If her mother knew about him, it would be the end of their relationship, maybe the end of her in general. After everything that happened with Polly, Betty has been walking on egg shells to appease her.

“Ohio State, which is ranked number on for communications majors, like journalism. I’m not saying I’ll go I just want to maybe tour the campus!” Journalism. Not a boy she’s fallen hopelessly in love with. Just the carefully planned out future her mother wants for her.

This news helps to soften Alice’s expression. Betty waits with bated breath for her decision to be reached. “I’m not sure I want you going out there all by yourself. I would love to go with you but I can’t very well leave your father to run the paper can I?”

“I went on my own to my internship,” she reminds her mother, almost daring to be hopeful. And then she gets an idea. It’s not a good one, because it goes against every fiber of her being, screaming at her to just fucking lie so her mother will let her go to Ohio. “Or V and I could go together! I think she was interested in going there too.” Veronica is going to kill her.

Veronica does threaten to kill her. They’re on the phone the next day talking about something unrelated until she suddenly switches gears. “Betty. I just remembered that last night my mom got the most interesting call from yours about some state college in Ohio and how I’m suddenly interested in attending with you.”

Betty groans and lets her head fall back on the bed. This is going to be harder than she thought. “I know. I know I’m sorry V. I didn’t know what else to say to my mom because I really want to go on a tour over there.”

“And this, of course, has everything to do with your mysterious boy toy J.”

“He’s not a boy toy! He’s a boyfriend. My boyfriend.”

It’s a song and dance they’re very well rehearsed with. Betty gets where her best friend is coming from, it’s hard not to. What she’s doing is absolutely insane on a fundamental level: going to Ohio to maybe visit a boy she’s never seen seen the entire face of because she’s absolutely in love with him after only four months of talking. It’s definitely stupid. It’s definitely insane. But it’s also definitely what her heart is telling her to do, and it’s not often Betty actually let’s that part of her body be heard.

“Fine,” her answer is shocking. “Fine. We’ll go. I’ll ask Daddy to get us too plane tickets, no three, Kevin will throw a fit if he’s not invited, for a weekend that the school is doing tours. This is your one chance. Does he even know you might be showing up at his front door steps at any moment with a boombox and a bouquet of roses?”

Well, no, he doesn’t, but that sounds like some sort of 1980’s classic reboot that J would be interested in. They both adore the cinema. It’s one of the many things they have in common. They’ve talked before, about what it would be like to go on dates together, sharing a bucket of popcorn and snuggle up in the crook of his arm and whisper about plot inconsistencies a little too loudly so the man in the row behind them starts tossing skittles at them. It’s a fantasy world for now, but she hopes it won’t always be.

Veronica takes her momentary silence as confirmation for what she already knows. “You haven’t. Betty you don’t even know how he’ll react! Maybe this is all online fun and games but then when you actually want to meet him he’ll clam up and run for the hills.”

“He’s not like that! He’s kind and funny and he cares about me!”

“Fine. Fine okay. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, B. You’re my best friend in the entire world and the thought of you getting crushed hurts me too. If this falls out it’ll be worse than what happened with Kevin, and you wouldn’t leave your room for a week.”

“I’m going to be okay this time. I know we have something special, me and J. It’s real and it’s amazing and sometimes what I feel for him is so much it’s almost suffocating. And then he says something stupid and I feel lighter than air. Lighter than I’ve ever felt. I’m doing something for me for the first time ever. Not for my mom or for my future, but for me. I need your support on this one.”

The pregnant pause makes her shake with fear. Veronica isn’t the easiest person around to convince of things. Once she’s got something in her head, she stubbornly latches onto it and absolutely refuses to let go. It’s one of the Lodges signature qualities. It makes them good businessmen and women, but sometimes rather tricky friends.

“Okay. You’ve got me. Tell that boy that if he crushes my girl’s heart then I’ll crush his balls with my bare hands. I’ll ask Kev when he’s free and we’ll book the flights to Ohio as soon as possible.”

Betty laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes she didn’t even notice were falling. “Thank you V. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go tell Mr. Inappropriately Mysterious about the good news.”

Before Betty even has a chance to text Jughead (because they’ve upgraded from instant messaging on tumblr and really only do it for the nostalgia or if he finds something she needs to see), Kevin is sending her a hundred messages.

**Kevin:** Omg Ohio. 

**Kevin:** Finally gonna get to meet your online beau.

**Kevin:** Pick a coffee shop so Veronica and I can snoop from the sidelines.

**Kevin:** I wonder if he knows anyone there I can have a fling with. Weekend college visit Ohio fling? The dream, Betty.

That makes her laugh. Her friends are each supportive in their own signature Keller and Lodge ways. If Kev  _ hadn’t _ immediately rushed to her with commentary, she might have worried he was sick.

It’s nerve wracking to type out what she wants to say to J. She writes and rewrites the messages more times than she can count. Each iteration feels foreign to her, like it’s someone else living out their dreams instead of her. But finally she presses send and reminds herself that this is the boy who just last week told her he loved her through an intricate series of heart emojis and an online tumblr scavenger hunt. Weird comes with their relationship.

**Betty:** I’m coming to Ohio to visit OSU and do a tour. I know you live around that area so maybe we could meet up? In person. I really want to kiss you, J.

She waits. And waits. And waits for his answer. It takes an hour and a half (which isn’t too unusual given how busy of a person he is sometimes). Betty tries not to let herself go crazy with worry. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s just him taking his time to come up with an answer. A really important answer. That’s going to define their relationship and maybe move it into more than just an online romance. So maybe this is more nerve wracking than she thought.

**J:** Yeah...yeah okay. Yes. I want to. I want to see you Betty. Meet you I guess. Tell me when you’re coming and I’ll set something up. I know a couple really small coffee shops around the campus.

Polly once told her to be careful with her heart, because giving it away was scary. Betty didn’t feel scared right now. All she felt was happy.

 

////////

 

“Oh my God this is insane. I shouldn’t go. I should just tell her I’m sorry but I can’t do it.”

Jughead’s been freaking out all morning. All. Morning. Judging by Archie’s tired expression, his best friend is getting kind of tired of it. Jughead really doesn't blame him. He’s tired of himself on this one. But it’s the day he’s supposed to meet Betty. In person, face to face, really meet her. (Maybe even hold her. Definitely hold her.) He’s terrified.

Honestly, he’s not sure if there’s anything specific he’s terrified of or it’s just his general fear of intimacy flaring up again because doing this is a really big step and one that means exposing a lot of himself right out in the open to her. And yeah, that’s pretty fucking scary for a guy who keeps pretty much everyone at arm’s length away. This step is inviting Betty in the parts of himself he’s not even sure he’s ready to accept. And she still doesn’t know his name. Which yes, is absurd to a farcical point, but it never felt like a good time to just out in the open say ‘hi my name is Jughead Jones and I’m one of your favorite authors”. Also, it just kind of feels pretentious.

“No, Jug. No. You aren’t doing this. You’re not going to chicken out and leave this girl hanging. You already said yes and you’ve told her you love her. You don’t even tell me that you love me!”

“Is no an inappropriate time to do that?”

Archie rolls his eyes and grabs Jughead by the collar. “Nope. We’re going. Sorry man this is for your own good.”

“I’m not ready!” He’s silently cursing his best friend’s amazing core strength because it would be much easier to break free if Archie couldn’t bench press him (which they tried once).

“Jug you’re never going to be ready. That’s the point of romance and love. Ready isn’t a thing. I’ve never been ready for anything in my entire life and things are going great. You keep over thinking.”

Jughead groans, accepting his fate as he’s forced into the passenger seat of the old pick up that they’ve been driving around since they were sixteen. “To be fair, Arch, you are by far the luckiest person I’ve ever met. Any and all good luck I could ever have had was probably sucked up by you.”

They drive in relative silence, the only thing keeping Jughead’s mind occupied is the crackling radio that should have been fixed a year ago but due to an outstanding dedication to procrastion has just gotten significantly worse. The coffee shop they’d agreed upon comes into view and he thinks for a minute he might take his chances barrel rolling out of the car. Apparently Archie can read his mind, behind his hold on his shoulder tightens until they pull out in front.

“Don’t be an idiot Jug. You want this. You’re crazy about this girl. Don’t get so in your own head that you fuck it up.”

“That’s my brand!”

“It’s a shitty brand! Now get out of the car. I’ll be back in an hour. Unless she ends up being crazy. Text me an SOS and I’ll come get you. And no, an SOS is not ‘I don’t know what to do with my feelings please come save me’.”

Jughead wants to stab his friend but there’s nothing sharp around and also he definitely still does need a ride home after this. If he’s still alive. Seeing Betty right in front of him as a real person might just kill him.

The coffee shop is about as empty as he expects. Most students prefer the Starbuck a few streets up to meet their caffeine needs. He doesn’t look around, too terrified of meeting her gaze if she even decided to show up. He’s convinced himself she won’t and maybe that’s for the best. The barista recognizes him and has his usual cup of black coffee written all out quickly.

“It’ll be right out.”

“Thanks, Sabrina.”

“Oh and Jug,” she points over his shoulder, “I think there’s a cute girl over there who who wants your attention.”

He turns around and is quickly caught by a pretty blonde girl with a tight ponytail and the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen. Holy shit it’s Betty Cooper. Or at least that’s what he would have said if his mouth wasn’t currently preoccupied with her kiss. Her lips are soft, sweet, and taste a hell of a lot like strawberry lip gloss. Artificial strawberry might be his new favorite flavor.

“Betty…” it’s the only word on his lips when they pull apart. He realizes his signature beanie is definitely not on his head anymore and has been replaced with her fingers, threaded so tightly in his curls for fear he’ll leave.

“J. Oh my god you’re finally here. I recognized your voice. Is that weird?” she’s got tears in her eyes but it doesn't stop her from pulling him down into another kiss.

“One black coffee for Jughead?” Sabrina calls out and he can hear the grin in her voice. That bitch.

Betty pulls back and immediately starts laughing. “Your name is Jughead? That’s so not fair. I would never have guessed that!”

“Kind of the point, baby.”

But he can’t really make any more snarky remarks because he’s suddenly very preoccupied with her lips all over again.

 

////////////

 

Veronica really likes Jughead. Or, well, she really likes his roommate, Archie Andrews, the musician. The five of them, because Kevin refuses to be left out even if it’s nauseating to be around the constant flirting, spend a lot of time at the boy’s apartment. Archie goes to OSU for music, so he shows them around campus without a formal tour. Before they leave for New York, Archie and Veronica have exchanged numbers and he promises to come visit her. Betty decides not to tease her about it. She seems happy.

Jughead (which she still really can’t believe is her boyfriend’s name) is amazingly sweet and borderline perfect. He takes her on a few dates and they get their dream movie experience, picking skittles out of the back of his shirt for the next hour. It hurts when it’s time to go, but the night before she gives everything she has to him. Maybe it’s clumsy and messy but it’s them and she’s glad it’s him who gets to hold her heart.

When they’re dropped off at the airport, Betty cries and Jug pretends he’s not too. Three days together and they’re already both addicted. It hurts to be apart. She really hopes she gets an acceptance letter from Ohio State.

They talk everyday after that, more than they did before. Betty’s almost always on the phone with him and her mother is started to get upset. When she finds out there’s a boy in Ohio that has stolen her daughter’s heart she’s down right furious. When she finds out he’s coming for prom, she almost has an aneurysm.

Prom, Jughead admits to her, is something he never did in high school. That sort of social normality was reserved for Archie, who not only loved it, but was almost prom king two years in a row. Betty doesn’t beg because it takes only one please for him to melt and agree to fly out. Archie is coming too. Apparently him and Veronica have gotten serious fast. It’s really sweet.

The two boys rent a room at the only hotel in Riverdale the night before prom. To say the night is heavenly would be an understatement. Betty dresses in the prettiest blue and pink dress she’s ever worn. Jughead gets her a pretty blue orchid corsage to match. Begrudgingly, her mother helps her make her boyfriend a boutineer. 

It’s almost strange to see Jughead without his hat on. In almost every picture she has of him on her phone he’s wearing that silly beanie. His hair is fluffy and curly and it makes her laugh just how hard he tried to tame it. She kisses him so hard her matte lipstick transfers. She’s pretty sure Jughead doesn’t mind.

Prom is a dream come true. It’s the greatest night of her life. He doesn’t like dancing but he does it just for her and out of the corner of her eye, Betty can see Archie and Veronica sneak out halfway through the night. She’s really happy for her friends.

When they stumble home - from exhaustion, not from the alcohol, though there was some of that exchanged - Betty knows what she wants to do. She’s been planning this since he said he was coming to her prom. Her dress is uncomfortable, so she shimmies it off (smacking away his greedy hands away) and picks up the letter from her desk. It’s her acceptance letter from Ohio State. They want her and she knows she wants them. But does Jughead too?

“You got in?” his voice chokes up, eyes blown wide with excitement. “Oh my God. Betty I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy to. And I want to go. So I can be with you. I love you, Jug and I don’t ever want to let you go.”

He kisses her silly right then and there but it makes her swoon. She would be content just kissing him, but he pulls back and reaches inside his bag for something. There’s a small wrapped package in his hands, about the size of a book. Curious, Betty rips the paper away and sees her favorite book. 

_ Backwoods Neon _ by FP Jones the Third.

She flips it open to the front page and is shocked to see it signed. There’s a little note written:

_ Dear Betty, _

_ Thank you for opening me up to a world I thought I was doing a great job of closing off. You’ve become my world and I love you every day a little bit more. I hope I’ll get to walk by your side for a really long time, because I know you’re going to do wonderful things. _

_ Jughead Jones _

Betty gasps, “You’re FP Jones?”

He laughs, a bit sheepish. He reaches out and takes her hands. “Surprise?”

“Any other names I need to know you go by?”

“Back in fifth grade Archie spent a week calling me HeadJug because he was mad at me for breaking his GI Joe.”

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a long kiss. Betty doesn’t stop kissing him all night.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @tory-b  
> follow Chloe on tumblr @bettycoopr  
> follow Mila on tumblr @stark


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